Rewriting on a story by Chaudhry Abdullah Amir (PakTurk School) who attempted at describing human feeling over a sad demise of a loved one. Well done, Chaudhry!

I was too fragile to say anything...

It was a warm night of July. I was sleeping in my room when suddenly I heard my mother shouting, “wake up son), she said. I didn’t give response to her, then she cried loudly . “She’s dead” she said hysterically. “Who’s dead” , I said tiredly. “Parveen” she cried . I was stunned , I woke up and sat on my bed putting my head in my knees, everything stopped for an instant. The fan in my room and the noise of the hens outside the room. I felt that the roof will fall on me. My head was too heavy like someone has put a lot of weight on it. I couldn’t breath and then something from inside of my body came out through my mouth and I shouted with the full power that I had “No”, I cried. “She can’t be, she promised me to meet me today.” She can’t be dead.

One warm night in July, I was sleeping in my room when suddenly I heard my mother shouting.

“Wake up, son!” she said. I didn't respond until she cried hysterically, “She’s dead!”

“Who’s dead?” I asked, still tired.

“Parveen.”

Stunned, I sat up in bed and put my head between my knees. Everything stopped for an instant. The fan whirred in my room and hens clucked outside. I felt like the roof should fall on me. My head was too heavy, as if someone had put a lot of weight in it. I couldn't breathe, and then something tore from inside my body to come out of my mouth as a shout with all the power I had. “No!” I cried. “She can’t be, she promised to meet me today.” She couldn't be dead.

I jumped from my bed and ran to the street . Her house was in the next street. I was running bare – footed wiping the tears off my face . I couldn’t feel the rocks on the road and finally I reached her home and saw a group of people in the garden. There were children and old men, some of them sitting on chairs, and some of them standing and gossiping about Parveen. I heard crying women inside. I ran to the main door and entered the house. I saw her lying on the floor in white dress. Beside here was her mother peeno and her elder sister Shaista.

I jumped from my bed and ran into the road. Her house was the next street over. I was running on bare feet, wiping the tears from my face. I couldn't feel the rocks of the road. Finally I reached her home and saw a group of people in the garden. There were children and old men, some of them sitting in chairs, some of them standing and gossiping, saying Parveen’s name. I heard crying women inside, so I ran to the main door and entered the house.

I saw her lying on the floor in a white dress. Beside her was her mother, Peeno, and her elder sister, Shaista.

I sat there near the door, watching her lying on the floor. I couldn’t feel anything. I was just having her memories that she was the most intelligent student in our class. We share our lunch and give examples to others that sharing is caring. She played Baseball and every single person wanted to have autograph of this girl. I was lost in nostalgia when someone touched me on shoulder. She was soothing mother who took my hand in hers and said slowly “Don’t cry son , all of us have to die one day”.

I sat there at the door, looking at her where she lay on the floor. I couldn't feel anything. I could just remember: She was the most intelligent student in our class. We shared our lunches, giving an example of the others that sharing is caring. She played baseball, and every single person wanted to have her autograph.

I was lost in memories when someone touched my shoulder. She was a soothing mother, who took my hand in hers and said slowly, “Don’t cry, son, all of us have to die one day.”

I was fragile and couldn’t say anything. My feet were bleeding because of running as much fast I can, but I was shocked by my best friend’s death and I almost didn’t feel the pain. The only person, who really understood me, was no more. My mother took me home but now I wasn’t me, the Abdullah of my family. The people in the street called me insane ….

I was too fragile to say anything. My feet were bleeding from the run over here, but I was so shocked by my best friend’s death that I couldn’t feel the pain. The only person who really understood me was no more.

My mother took me home, but I wasn't myself any longer. I was not the person my family knew as Abdullah. The people in the street called me insane…

Contributed by: Chaudhry Abdullah AmirO' Levels Final YearPakTurk International School, Islamabad